


Ask and Receive

by sewn



Series: Gen Prompt Bingo 18 [3]
Category: The Shannara Chronicles (TV)
Genre: Consent, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Magic Hurts, Non-Explicit Sex, Parent/Child Incest, Runes, somewhere between T and M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:07:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24163330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewn/pseuds/sewn
Summary: She didn’t realize how reliant she had become on her father reading her mind until one day he couldn't. She thought it would pass from him to her, like their runes, but it didn’t. Every now and then she thinks she senses something, a light brush against her mind, if they're close, but nothing she can grasp and hold.
Relationships: Allanon/Mareth (Shannara)
Series: Gen Prompt Bingo 18 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1737304
Kudos: 5
Collections: Gen Prompt Bingo Round 18





	Ask and Receive

**Author's Note:**

> To balance out the angst, here's some fluffy PWP - without the porn. Like a handful of my other stories, this is set in a nebulous fix-it or canon divergent future.
> 
> For my Gen Prompt Bingo square "Patterns."

”Yes,” she says, out loud. ”I do.”

Mareth has said these words often the past few days. She didn’t realize how reliant she had become on her father reading her mind until one day he couldn't. She thought it would pass from him to her, like their runes, but it didn’t. Every now and then she thinks she senses something, a light brush against her mind, if they're close, but nothing she can grasp and hold.

”Not everyone develops it naturally,” Allanon said and reassured she’d have time to practice.

It’s left them with a gap between them that they have to reach across. Like the physical one that she now closes, satisfied with his partial stage of undress.

”Yes,” he repeats against her mouth before kissing it. ”I do too.”

She’s also shed enough clothes for what they both agree to. The woollen blanket is rough under her back, but she wants this, the warmth of his lips on her breasts, the delicious scratch of his beard, now that it’s getting warm enough to do this outside.

They fit together without too much arranging, his arms around her raised legs familiar by now, and the way he strokes the valley between thigh and hip with his thumb, slowly, breathing her in.

Suddenly, her skin burns where his breath just caressed it on her lower belly, a sting that makes her tense all over. His fingertips sink into her thighs almost at the same time, but the burn precedes his touch and by now she knows what the sensation means, though she’s never felt it in such an intimate place. His are mostly on his back, but she is much smaller, and the runes have carved themselves all over, also on her arms and chest. She doesn’t mind. In fact, she enjoys getting to look at the scars, comparing them to his, fresh to fading.

”Apologies.” His hold loosens but she feels his fingers tremble on her skin, left sensitive all over, her body on alert, expecting another strike. She wills herself to relax but isn’t entirely successful, his touch keeping the tension alive inside her, the good one, the one still untangling itself from the intruding pain.

”Which one is it?” she whispers. He kisses the spot, not that he needs to do it to find out.

”One for battle. You’re becoming stronger.” He speaks with loss and wonder interwoven in his voice, laced with his own receding pain. He doesn’t try to hide it from her anymore. They share it anyway. There's an odd comfort in knowing someone can feel exactly what you do.

"Does it hurt too much?" he continues, "Do you want to stop?"

"No," she says, and, "No."

His mouth moves lower, and she spreads her legs an inch. The aches mix, the bad and the good. The elven body is quick to catch up like that. Maybe. She isn’t always sure what comes from her blood and what’s just her. Mom never brought up quite all the details.

The fleeting thought of her makes Mareth's stomach tighten out of reflex before she remembers. He won’t read it in her. He catches on to her reaction, though.

”Don’t stop,” she breathes out, quick, eager to reassure.

As if to balance out the stinging, or perhaps still coming back to himself, too, from the sensation of losing another rune, he keeps his exploration slow and shallow. Whatever the reason, she doesn’t mind. The smarting spot on her skin turns into something tender, and each little spark traveling up her belly joins it, drawn to it, twining with it.

Mareth slides her hand down to touch it, curious, brushing over the existing marks of magic, the three little ones between her breasts: protection, steadiness of hand, and one he didn’t quite know how to explain in words. The normal scars, hers to keep.

It doesn’t hurt to trace the shape of the new one: an unknown letter. She’ll learn it later. She’ll ask him. Satisfied it’s really there, tangible, she lets her hand drift further to touch the round shell of his ear and lifts her leg, lays the sole of her foot between his shoulder blades, like she could feel the marks there too, though really she’s only staining his skin with the green of the grass.

His mouth is hot, soft and solid, and he lets her rock up, steer, get the rhythm of her hips right. The tingling under her skin, spreading up and down, slowly drowns out what remains of the hurt, all sensation melting together into that sweet, insistent ache inside.

He only holds her tighter when she loses all power and will to control herself, broad hands holding her hips down, caging that wild, soaring abandon inside her body.

Allanon waits for her hands to release his forearms before pulling back. His touch lingers on her calves. She lets her mind wander around her body. There's no pain left, just another new part of her humming with magic.

Pleasantly unsteady, still settling, Mareth sits up and presses her foot against his still clothed groin. It’s not subtle, but she still speaks.

”Tell me," she says, voice carrying the echo of her pleasure. "What do you want?”


End file.
